Yes! It’s that time of year again! Americans all over the world are rejoicing as other, less patriotic people sit and make snide comments at the expense of those proud of their heritage. Yes, it’s the 4th July when Americans celebrate their liberation from oppressive aliens at the hands of a cigar-smoking Will Sm- what? Oh, sorry. Their declaration of independence from the United Kingdom of Great Britain & Ireland.

As a British website, hecklerspray would like to wish our American readers all of the happiness in the world and long may your independence from all tyranny continue. Even the tyranny of your right wing media. You’ve earned your freedom. Well, you haven’t but your ancestors did. Or they emigrated. Y’know… from here.

Of course, it’s of vital importance that we all know exactly what our favourite celebrities are doing to celebrate their country’s independence from us tyrannical Brits. We took a look at the niche section of our putrid, pus-ridden post bag to answer your burning questions. Just what are they up to?

One of our readers wants to know what Ashton Kutcher, the new star of terrible sitcom Two & A Half Men and child-like beau of Hollywood corpse Demi Moore was up to so that they could burgle his house. Unfortunately, we couldn’t provide accurate details of his exact whereabouts even though our correspondent promised us a pair of Demi’s boil-washed scants for Matthew Laidlow‘s ‘Wall of Shame’. We did take this from Twitter:

@APLUSK: “Everyone have an amazing 4th! I’m taking a digital hiatus. independence day unplugged,”

Singer of terrible songs Pink was one of the most popular acts enquired about in our post bag. She revealed (also on Twitter) that she is looking forward to spending time with her family and friends. The pop wibbler has some “fun” outdoor activities arranged for the holiday. Supposedly. If you can work out what the hell the illiterate git is even on about:

@Pink: “so fun camping out with the family and buddies:) happy 4TH peoples. bring on da works (sic),”

A string of anonymous men have been in touch with us to find out what Paris Hilton is up to for the 4th July. We don’t know why they’re so interested but most of the letters included the word “bang” at one point or another. has celebrated the holiday in her usual social style. The newly-single heiress, who announced her split from boyfriend Cy Waits last month, took to Twitter to gush inarticulately about her pre-holiday party.

@ParisHilton: “Has the most incredible pre 4th of July party yesterday! So much fun, so many amazing people. Love my life and my friends. Feel so blessed.”

Our sources understand that she has taken the 15th floor of the New York Hilton and will be “cycling” between the rooms in order to celebrate her independence from the responsibilities of normal people.

Reports are that Charlie Sheen will be dragging himself up to the mothership to fight Tom Cruise to the death in a climactic battle.

Happy Independence Day, America!

Pink has given birth to a baby girl. A stupid, stupid baby girl. A baby that will cry, defecate, vomit and drag every ounce of Pink’s sorry life out of her until she’s even more of a husk than she was before. And we’re supposed to care. We’re supposed to give a flying fuck.

See, this is what happens when someone completes the tedious biological feat of unifying a sperm and an egg. We’re supposed to coo about how beautiful a moment in human history it is, despite the fact, as underlined in the thousands of housing estates in Britain, even the most dithering thicket-brained bovine can get pregnant.

Effectively, all a baby is, is a signal that condoms are brilliant and that a person has decided to completely give up on life, in favour of bestowing their flickering hope on another human who, obviously, will continue the cycle of failed potential, in turn, having children of their own and perpetuating the notion that where there are future humans, there is hope.

Of course, humans don’t bring hope – only despair and occasional distraction from the clawing, growing inner self-loathing that will one day consume us all while we sit in our nursing homes, surrounded by yet more filled nappies and mashed up food. We exit the world in the same way we entered it – crying and helpless.

But that’s not stopping Pink from being filled with that irritating, misguided glow that new mothers shove down everyone’s throats in the form of endless identical baby photos and dribbling sycophancy over a child that is, ostensibly, exactly the same as every other stupid child.

She tweeted, unaware of the doom about to face her:

“We are ecstatic to welcome our new beautiful healthy happy baby girl, Willow Sage Hart. She’s gorgeous, just like her daddy. #beyondblessed.”

Pink will invariably have such pride in her offspring, thinking that it is some kind of miracle (it isn’t a miracle – dogs have sex and they’re stupid, dirty creatures) that needs to be shared with the world. She’ll sit her little fucking baby in cafes, oblivious to the fact her shrieking runt is making everyone else apoplectic with rage. She’ll pop her little bundle of git on planes, where decent, upstanding humans will all jostle for position at the emergency exits mid-flight, in an attempt to escape the horrors of a mother’s joy and a tiny red-faced shit factory.

What will make Pink even more unbearable about this wickle migraine-waiting-to-happen, is that she’s had a miscarriage in the past. Of course, the trauma of a miscarriage isn’t a joking matter, but we should treat successful pregnancies with even more concern. Miscarriages can wreck a family’s life. Baby’s can make entire restaurants miserable. Forever. With their constant screaming and grating gurglings.

And worse still, childless simpletons will coo at how astonishing this all is, tittering at tiny trainers bought for this grabbing tit-vulture. They’ll hoot at how tiny the baby’s nails are, before grimacing with pain as the monstrous sprog embeds these translucent finger razors into their arm! Their eyes will fill with water and through gritted teeth, as the baby reaches the marrow of the bone, they’ll whimper ‘she’s got her dad’s… dad’s… eyes… hasn… hasn’t she? Is… isn’t she l… lovely?’

All this horror for what? A future toddler throwing handfuls of its own muck at everyone, eventually turning into a greasy teenager, before flowering as someone who temps in an office because of the crushingly unemployment, exacerbated by guess what? Correct! All those fucking babies that were born. Even worse, they could end up like us.

Do share your well wishes in the comments below.

Pink once sang “where have the smart people gone?” in her song, ‘Stupid Girl’, which sneered at those who get their breasts out for fame and chatter about the inane while tragedy besets the world.

And so, with that, the ‘I’ve Got My Boobs Out In Public In The Name Of Staying In The Public Consciousness But I Was Being Ironic Or Empowering Depending On What My Publicist Told Me’ popstar has got something very important to tell us.

She’s had a rotten haircut. Hilariously, everyone decided to point at it and laugh.

Pink, who thinks that girls are too willing to prance around in their underwear for fleeting fame and, not in anyway connected, rose to stardom when she appeared in lacy undergarments in the Lady Marmalade video, decided to point at her brains on twitter, but instead, talk about the furry layer that covers it.

Talking about her hair, she said:

“The woman that did my hair butchered it.

“I hate it.”

Now, Pink fans must be a very specific type of popfan. Too cynical to enjoy a Miley Cyrus record, but lacking in the testes to get into ‘proper’ rock music. However, one thing they’ve learned is that they should be independent and that they should be honest and tell it like it is. It’s okay to be an opinionated ‘outsider’ because Pink told them so.

With that, they all promptly went about telling Pink how dreadful her haircut is.

Pink responded with:

“Thanks for pointing out how much you all hate it, too. helpful.”

Then, the seismic news shift happened. Like a 3 minute warning that the world was going to end, Pink delivered a staggering blow with some astonishing insight.

She wrote that her husband Carey Hart cheered her up a bit by making some toast and bringing it to her in bed.

She signed off with:

“I love my man.”

So there. The news is basically this: Pink has had some toast and a haircut.

Did you feel that? It was the Earth tilting on its axis slightly. MASSIVE.

There’s a saying that says there’s ‘one born every minute’. We reckon this is in relation to simpering, gooey minded dribblers all desperate to have children for absolutely no good reason whatsoever.

Why on Earth would anyone want a child? Look out of your window and every ugly thing you see will be the fault of a human being. So bringing more of our failing species into the world is just a very stupid idea indeed.

And now we’re faced with pop star Pink confirming that she’s pregnant, thereby turning her into some sentimental jackass who can’t stop cooing and tweeting about every single shit she wipes up.

The thing is, new parents lose their minds quicker than a Guantanamo detainee. Previously cool people soon find themselves completely robbed of personality, only able to talk about this crawling little cretin that has come about because of some neediness to affirm a dying relationship.

A new child is born and there is a brief moment of celebration, mainly because humans are still programmed to worry that everyone involved in the childbirth might die. There’s a collective sigh of relief and a cigar, followed by years of resentment as New Mother and New Father do nothing but chuckle over each puddle of puke and take endless photographs of their children covered in spaghetti hoops.

Essentially, parents are idiots. Read Mumsnet if you want proof.

And Pink is going to be worse than most because she’s been a self-proclaimed ‘wild child’ and the arrival of a baby will invariably see her referring to the fun she had in the past as having made ‘a lot of mistakes’. Shit. She’s probably going to start wearing ad-hoc turbans and become an Earth Mother. She’ll probably make an acoustic album full of sensitive life stories and tracks concerned about the way our world is going.

That’s being a parent for you. You stop having a real good time and start fretting about the world that your child will live in. How nauseating.

However, there is vaguely good news in this tale.

Pink has been pointed at and rumours flew around that she was up the duff after she was snapped looking a bit bloated in the guts.

Well, she’s been keeping her pregnancy secret because she previously suffered a miscarriage and was “nervous” about going public with the news.

She says:

“I didn’t want to talk about it because I was just really nervous and I have had a miscarriage before.”

She’s not keen to find out the sex of her unborn child, but she fears it’s a girl who might end up being an unruly daughter just like she was.

“The doctor kind of told me what she thinks. I’m terrified because she thinks it’s a girl… My mom has always wished me a daughter just like me. I’m terrified one of us will go to jail.”

“I never had anything in my life that I didn’t work hard for and my relationship is that. We worked really hard and we had our little meltdowns, a couple of them, and… we both needed to do that and come back together. It’s just yummy.”

Yummy?

See? It’s started already. If you thought Pink was kinda fun to have around with her pantomime shock schtick, then wave goodbye to it now as she’s replaced being pop’s troublemaker for being a Yummy Mummy. Taylor Momsen, time to step up to the plate. hecklerspray knows a good dealer who can sort you out, okay? Pink’s gone soft and we need a mainstream minx to keep us awake.

Follow hecklerspray on Twitter or join our Facebook group

Cementing its reputation as the Year In Which Celebrities Crash To The Floor In Amusing Ways, Pink – you remember Pink, right?

No, not the colour. Yeah, that one. The one you’d forgotten about for the last eight or nine years. The one with the curiously square jaw? Yep, that one. Turns out she’s got a bit of that sweet, sweet gravity action.

So, what has she done to briefly register in your consciousness? Well it turns out she can’t put on a harness properly, that’s about it. Unfortunately, that does  rule out all those mucky fantasies you may have had back in the day about her strapping herself into a sex swing while you play some weird solo version of swingball with her trussed body -becomes much less erotic if you know that she’ll almost certainly fall out and launch herself at a set of security barriers, doesn’t it? Having said that, I’m sure that a few of you will now be fantasising about strongly-jawed women being hurled at crash barriers, you sick, sick people you.

Anyway, the video for you to point and laugh at is after the jump!

See? Look at that. Falling over. Hilarious. Oh gravity, you cruel mistress!

Anyway, Pink explained the accident on Twitter, which at least means her thumbs are fine. Marie Clare reports:

“I’m so so so sorry to end the show that way,” she wrote. “I’m embarrassed …I’m in ambulance now but I will b fine. Didn’t get clipped in2 harness correctly, drug me off stage, fell in2 barricade…I hope it at least looked cool!!!”

Now, there are at least two hypotheses about why Pink fell off the stage. There’s the one that she, her management, everyone at the gig, and everyone who isn’t a paranoid weirdo seems to be going with, which is that she was a cack-handed loon who can’t do up a simple strap which is there for the sole purpose of saving her life.

But forget that! Look at that tweet! Drug me off stage? Obviously, there is a nefarious conspiracy afoot. She was quite clearly drugged, badly clipped into a harness and simply fired into the nearest hard object. That also explains her atrociously scrambled use of syntax and her psychedelic assertion that she fell into the barricade like David Bowman falling into the monolith at the end of 2001: A Space Odyssey?

Into? Into? Are we meant to believe that a giant of our times can’t use a simple preposition correctly? Are we meant to believe that one of our most beloved (and apparently forgettable) pop stars is unschooled in the way of simple sentence structure?

Well, Al Qaeda, your plot didn’t work. She’s fine:

“Ok all my lovers out there- nothings broken, no fluid in the lungs, just seriously sore. I made that barricade my b*tch!!!! Thanx nurnberg”

Nurnberg? Oh, blimmin’ hell, it was her tweeting all along, wasn’t it. Even terrorists would get the name of the place right.

Sorry guys, back to your day jobs.

Follow hecklerspray on Twitter

Pink's last album might have been called I'm Not Dead, but her marriage certainly is – dead as a flipping doornail.

It's just been reported that Pink and her husband Carey Hart are divorcing after two years of happy, split rumour-filled, years. Although Pink and Carey Hart have said that they're still great friends despite the break-up, it's no surprise that their marriage didn't last on reflection.

After all, it must be hard to be married to a woman who looks like she could quite easily beat you in an arm-wrestling match.

Pink's always been a girl who does what she darn well pleases. When she became unhappy with her original R&B Britney Spears image, Pink said "No way! I'm my own person! I'm raw and uncompromising and I'll record whatever I like, so long as there's a multimillion-selling songwriter helping me! And then I'll record a song called Stupid Girls where I'll satirise girls who wear bikinis in pop videos by doing the exact thing I'm so angry about! Grrr!"

And that became even more apparent when Pink decided to get married. "No way! I won't marry one of those nice boys that you say I should," Pink screamed at nobody in particular, "I'll marry a boy who rides a motorbike or something! Raaah!" And so just over two years ago, Pink married Carey Hart, a man who rides motorbikes for a living. And everyone was happy forever.

Alright, maybe not forever – but for the two or three months before the quickly-dismissed rumours of marital strife crept in, at least. And definitely not now, because Pink and Carey Hart have announced that they're getting a divorce. People reports:

The marriage of pop singer Pink and her husband of two years, motocross racer and former The Surreal Life star Carey Hart, has ended, the singer's publicist, Michele Schweitzer, tells PEOPLE. "Pink and Carey Hart have separated. This decision was made by best friends with a huge amount of love and respect for one another," says Schweitzer, adding, "While the marriage is over, their friendship has never been stronger."

It's sad, but also kind of inevitable. Just days ago Carey Hart was seen at a party all over a girl who probably didn't even have a secondary colour for a name. Not only that, but imagine trying to live with someone who makes their living by writing songs called things like Conversations With My 13-Year-Old Self and not wanting to push them down the stairs. Imagine it. You can't, can you. Especially if Get The Party Started was their ringtone. You'd be lucky not to end up arrested for locking them in a cupboard.

Still, it's good to see that, despite the divorce, Pink and Carey Hart still have a 'huge amount of love and respect for each other', even though that sounds like the biggest crock of shit ever written. Because last time she was single Pink wrote songs called Misery and Numb, and we'd hate to think of what whiny self-pitying nonsense she'd come up with as a bitter divorcee.

Read more:

Pink & Carey Hart Divorcing – People 

Brad Pitt is continuing his quest to rebuild New Orleans in his own image – a bit like God did with mankind, only pinker and more bricky.

As part of his $12 million Make It Right campaign to build a series of cheap, sustainable homes to rehouse those affected by Hurricane Katrina, Brad Pitt has been to New Orleans to unveil a whole host of brand new homes that will… wait, that's not what Brad Pitt unveiled at all. In actuality, Brad Pitt unveiled a load of bright pinks blocks to obliquely remind people about the floods. But the houses are coming, honest, and Brad Pitt has pledged $5 million of his own money to build 150 houses by next summer.

Hang on, that's a good thing. This isn't what hecklerspray does. Damn you for not doing more stuff we can mock you for, Brad Pitt. Damn you to hell.

Ever since Newsweek singled him out as a Great American, Brad Pitt has dedicated himself to only doing good things, like helping Angelina Jolie adopt all the babies in the world and making surefire hit TV shows about humanitarian aid workers in the Sudan and, you know, stuff.

But what's closest to Brad Pitt's heart is the rebuilding of New Orleans following Hurricane Katrina. Brad Pitt announced his plans for sustainable, affordable New Orleans houses back in April 2006, and has returned to the scene regularly since to check up on the developments.

But this weekend Brad Pitt returned to New Orleans once again to rattle his tincan at the public to get more money for more homes. And, to help him, Brad Pitt has made sure that hundreds of eight-foot-high pink blocks have been scattered around the Lower Ninth Ward of New Orleans.

It's an installation, you see, and some of them light up. And they represent, um, things. And they'll totally make people give Brad Pitt money for more houses. Oh, look, we don't know. But at least Brad Pitt knows exactly what the blocks are meant to symbolise, as he told the New Orleans Times-Picayune in probably the most needlessly flowery language we've ever heard:

"Right now there are scattered blocks, like they were scattered by fate's hand, symbolic of the aftermath of the storm. But we will be flipping the homes, essentially righting the wrong. Why pink? For me, it screams the loudest. It says that this place, where so many people thrived, is still sitting there like a barren wasteland, and we can change that."

Brad Pitt is undoubtedly doing something very important here, but "scattered by fate's hand"? No, no, we mustn't mock him. Brad Pitt is right this time. "Scattered by fate's hand," though. Nnngg. We've never been so conflicted. This is giving us an aneurysm, we swear.

Anyway, the pink blocks are Brad Pitt's way of raising awareness to make groups and organisations pledge more money to the campaign to build more homes and rehouse even more of New Orleans' flood-ravaged population. It's a noble cause, and to show how much he's become invested in the campaign, Brad Pitt has already donated $5 million of his own money along with producer Steve Bing, to guarantee that 150 homes will be built by next summer.

Incidentally, we hope that the $5 million that Brad Pitt has pledged includes the combined total of the money we paid to see Troy, Mr & Mrs Smith and Ocean's Thirteen at the cinema. We'd be able to sleep so much better at night knowing that Brad Pitt didn't just spend that £22.50 on something nice for himself, you know.

Read more:

Pitt In The Pink – E! Online